Aliens For Sale (excerpt)
When aliens decide to move to Earth, they hire the planet's leading marketer to sell the idea to the locals. If you're ever in a similar position, you should probably think carefully before gluing anything to your head.
(Sound of a tennis ball in a blender)’s plan was barely twelve hours old and it was already going badly. He’d gathered his company’s creative staff in his largest conference room to come up with a plan of how to sell (Sound of a worm sneezing) to the Earthlings. While highly inventive, the twenty-five (Sound of a worm...)ers had all the decorum of a monkey’s tea party. The meeting had been going on for almost five minutes and he hadn’t managed to get anyone’s attention yet.
His company’s mission statement was carved into a lightweight artificial rock mounted on the wall behind him. It read, “We exist to synergistically maintain multimedia deliverables so that we may assertively restore diverse content to stay competitive in tomorrow’s world.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) wondered yet again what, exactly, the message meant as he tapped his glass heavily on the table to make himself heard over the general chaos. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he groaned. “You’ve all seen the research material supplied by (Sound of a typewriter rolling down an escalator).”
The side conversations ground to a halt as the young researcher waved from a corner of the room. Creative types made him nervous. They were so... creative. (Sound of a tennis ball...) was hoping his nephew would be able to contain his anxiety along with his bodily fluids.
(Sound of an owl at 2.5 times normal speed) sat at her boss’s side, furiously taking notes.
“I’ve come up with a 50,000-foot concept of how we’re going to sell ourselves, and now we need to get down to the deck,” he announced proudly.
“Excuse me,” said one of the young associates, raising her paw timidly.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) thought her name was (Sound of a thermometer in a chicken). He smiled benevolently.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“What does what mean?”
“50,000-foot concept and down to the deck.”
“I’ve done the painting in broad strokes and now we need to fill in the fine lines.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now, we’re going to...”
“Excuse me.”
“Yes,” he answered icily.
“What do you mean by broad strokes and fill in the fine lines?”
“I have a vague concept and we need to work out the details.”
“Thank you.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) kept his eye on the youngster as he spoke. If she raised her paw again, he was going to send her out for coffee. “We’re going to appeal to the Earthlings’ egos.”
He nodded toward (Sound of a typewriter...). The young researcher again waved nervously. “Our research indicates that despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the vast majority of Earthlings consider themselves environmentalists. They also consider themselves very compassionate toward those in need. We’re going to combine those two traits to our advantage.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) was actually quite pleased with his idea. (Sound of a worm...) would appeal to the Earthlings as environmental refugees in need of rescue. The real beauty of the idea was that it reached the Earthlings on three of their most instinctive levels. They would be acting as environmentalists, they would be rescuing an underdog, and most important of all, they would be feeling good about themselves.
The marketing genius faltered in the presentation of his concept when he noticed one of the younger associates at the far end of the table. He tried to gather his thoughts and continue, but simply couldn’t ignore the young female.
“I’m sorry, but what are those things on the side of your head?” he asked.
She blushed and raised one paw to gently touch the jewelry. “They’re called earrings,” she answered softly.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) skeptically regarded the dangling bits of wire and beads from across the room. “What are they for?”
“They’re for decoration,” the youngster replied self-consciously.
“You’re decorating your head?”
The female was suddenly embarrassed to have attention drawn to her bold fashion statement. “They’re pretty,” she said defensively.
Other participants in the meeting were craning to see what the conversation was about. One of the other females addressed her by name. “(Sound of an avocado on a ceiling fan), what holds them in place?”
The embarrassed young female lowered her eyes and mumbled.
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘glue’?” asked the inquisitive female.
The youngster nodded.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) was amazed. He’d done some experimenting in his youth. He’d even deliberately done a few things simply for shock value. He’d dyed his forelock purple just to annoy his father. But he’d never, no matter what condition he’d found himself in, ever glued anything to his head. “You glued, what are those, shells? You glued shells to your head as decoration?”
“They’re beads,” the female answered, embarrassed to hear how ludicrous the idea sounded when spoken out loud.
“It doesn’t matter,” (Sound of a tennis ball...) responded, incredulous. “The fact is you’ve deliberately glued something, anything, to your head.”
The other females in the room rallied to their suddenly tearful sister’s defense. “I think they’re pretty,” insisted (Sound of an avocado...).
(Sound of an owl...) even risked taking an opinion other than her boss’s. “Very fashionable,” she said softly. “What kind of glue do you use?”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) whirled on her. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might,” she answered defiantly. “Where did you get such a creative idea?” she asked the young female.
“From a picture of a female Earthling,” (Sound of an avocado...) explained between sniffs. “They have external ear flaps and females hang decorations on theirs called earrings.” She wiped her nostril with a tissue provided by a sympathetic female. “I thought they were pretty,” she sobbed. “Since we don’t have external ears, I didn’t have anything to hang them on, and the glue was just lying there, so...” she shrugged in explanation.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) slowly realized from the glares of the other females in the room that he was in serious trouble for reducing one of their own to tears. Never mind that the tears were in response to his questioning the wisdom of gluing rocks to her head.
He never ceased to be amazed at what females would do in the name of fashion. He’d really like to have a conversation with (Sound of four balloons...) about that one day. In the meantime, he had a planet to sell. He cleared his throat nervously. “Very avant-garde,” he harrumphed.
“Back to our topic. We’re going to ask the Earthlings for their help. We need to convince them that we’re facing an environmental crisis and must temporarily evacuate our planet to give it time to heal.”
Unable to shake the thought from his head, he turned back to the fashion-conscious young female. “Do the Earth females glue rocks to their heads?”
Still sniffing, she shook her head. “Not rocks, beads. They have external ear flaps.”
“But what holds them on the ear flaps?”
“They pierce holes in the flaps and then run a wire through the hole. The beads are then hung from the wire.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) considered for a moment. “They punch holes in their head, run wires through them and then tie rocks to the other end?”
Eyes lowered, the young female fidgeted with her tissue and shrugged. She wished he would just let it go. “Yes, sir. That’s basically it.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) nodded wisely and tapped his notes on the table. “Given the alternative, glue was probably a wise choice.”
He cleared his throat before continuing. “Now, as I was saying, we’re going to convince the Earthlings that we have to temporarily evacuate our planet.”
“How long are we going to have to evacuate?” asked someone in the back.
“Somewhere between six months and forever, leaning heavily toward forever.
“That’s one of the issues we’re going to have to address. We need the Earthlings to give us an open-ended invitation. We need to convince them that it’s a good idea to invite a basically unknown alien race to move to their planet for an unspecified period of time.” Much as he had expected, chaos quickly ensued.
His company’s mission statement was carved into a lightweight artificial rock mounted on the wall behind him. It read, “We exist to synergistically maintain multimedia deliverables so that we may assertively restore diverse content to stay competitive in tomorrow’s world.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) wondered yet again what, exactly, the message meant as he tapped his glass heavily on the table to make himself heard over the general chaos. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he groaned. “You’ve all seen the research material supplied by (Sound of a typewriter rolling down an escalator).”
The side conversations ground to a halt as the young researcher waved from a corner of the room. Creative types made him nervous. They were so... creative. (Sound of a tennis ball...) was hoping his nephew would be able to contain his anxiety along with his bodily fluids.
(Sound of an owl at 2.5 times normal speed) sat at her boss’s side, furiously taking notes.
“I’ve come up with a 50,000-foot concept of how we’re going to sell ourselves, and now we need to get down to the deck,” he announced proudly.
“Excuse me,” said one of the young associates, raising her paw timidly.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) thought her name was (Sound of a thermometer in a chicken). He smiled benevolently.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“What does what mean?”
“50,000-foot concept and down to the deck.”
“I’ve done the painting in broad strokes and now we need to fill in the fine lines.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now, we’re going to...”
“Excuse me.”
“Yes,” he answered icily.
“What do you mean by broad strokes and fill in the fine lines?”
“I have a vague concept and we need to work out the details.”
“Thank you.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) kept his eye on the youngster as he spoke. If she raised her paw again, he was going to send her out for coffee. “We’re going to appeal to the Earthlings’ egos.”
He nodded toward (Sound of a typewriter...). The young researcher again waved nervously. “Our research indicates that despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the vast majority of Earthlings consider themselves environmentalists. They also consider themselves very compassionate toward those in need. We’re going to combine those two traits to our advantage.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) was actually quite pleased with his idea. (Sound of a worm...) would appeal to the Earthlings as environmental refugees in need of rescue. The real beauty of the idea was that it reached the Earthlings on three of their most instinctive levels. They would be acting as environmentalists, they would be rescuing an underdog, and most important of all, they would be feeling good about themselves.
The marketing genius faltered in the presentation of his concept when he noticed one of the younger associates at the far end of the table. He tried to gather his thoughts and continue, but simply couldn’t ignore the young female.
“I’m sorry, but what are those things on the side of your head?” he asked.
She blushed and raised one paw to gently touch the jewelry. “They’re called earrings,” she answered softly.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) skeptically regarded the dangling bits of wire and beads from across the room. “What are they for?”
“They’re for decoration,” the youngster replied self-consciously.
“You’re decorating your head?”
The female was suddenly embarrassed to have attention drawn to her bold fashion statement. “They’re pretty,” she said defensively.
Other participants in the meeting were craning to see what the conversation was about. One of the other females addressed her by name. “(Sound of an avocado on a ceiling fan), what holds them in place?”
The embarrassed young female lowered her eyes and mumbled.
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘glue’?” asked the inquisitive female.
The youngster nodded.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) was amazed. He’d done some experimenting in his youth. He’d even deliberately done a few things simply for shock value. He’d dyed his forelock purple just to annoy his father. But he’d never, no matter what condition he’d found himself in, ever glued anything to his head. “You glued, what are those, shells? You glued shells to your head as decoration?”
“They’re beads,” the female answered, embarrassed to hear how ludicrous the idea sounded when spoken out loud.
“It doesn’t matter,” (Sound of a tennis ball...) responded, incredulous. “The fact is you’ve deliberately glued something, anything, to your head.”
The other females in the room rallied to their suddenly tearful sister’s defense. “I think they’re pretty,” insisted (Sound of an avocado...).
(Sound of an owl...) even risked taking an opinion other than her boss’s. “Very fashionable,” she said softly. “What kind of glue do you use?”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) whirled on her. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might,” she answered defiantly. “Where did you get such a creative idea?” she asked the young female.
“From a picture of a female Earthling,” (Sound of an avocado...) explained between sniffs. “They have external ear flaps and females hang decorations on theirs called earrings.” She wiped her nostril with a tissue provided by a sympathetic female. “I thought they were pretty,” she sobbed. “Since we don’t have external ears, I didn’t have anything to hang them on, and the glue was just lying there, so...” she shrugged in explanation.
(Sound of a tennis ball...) slowly realized from the glares of the other females in the room that he was in serious trouble for reducing one of their own to tears. Never mind that the tears were in response to his questioning the wisdom of gluing rocks to her head.
He never ceased to be amazed at what females would do in the name of fashion. He’d really like to have a conversation with (Sound of four balloons...) about that one day. In the meantime, he had a planet to sell. He cleared his throat nervously. “Very avant-garde,” he harrumphed.
“Back to our topic. We’re going to ask the Earthlings for their help. We need to convince them that we’re facing an environmental crisis and must temporarily evacuate our planet to give it time to heal.”
Unable to shake the thought from his head, he turned back to the fashion-conscious young female. “Do the Earth females glue rocks to their heads?”
Still sniffing, she shook her head. “Not rocks, beads. They have external ear flaps.”
“But what holds them on the ear flaps?”
“They pierce holes in the flaps and then run a wire through the hole. The beads are then hung from the wire.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) considered for a moment. “They punch holes in their head, run wires through them and then tie rocks to the other end?”
Eyes lowered, the young female fidgeted with her tissue and shrugged. She wished he would just let it go. “Yes, sir. That’s basically it.”
(Sound of a tennis ball...) nodded wisely and tapped his notes on the table. “Given the alternative, glue was probably a wise choice.”
He cleared his throat before continuing. “Now, as I was saying, we’re going to convince the Earthlings that we have to temporarily evacuate our planet.”
“How long are we going to have to evacuate?” asked someone in the back.
“Somewhere between six months and forever, leaning heavily toward forever.
“That’s one of the issues we’re going to have to address. We need the Earthlings to give us an open-ended invitation. We need to convince them that it’s a good idea to invite a basically unknown alien race to move to their planet for an unspecified period of time.” Much as he had expected, chaos quickly ensued.